The Life of a Child on the Home Front – Part 1
by
Peter Kendall
Just before the War started, some people that we knew came round the area,
fitting us all up with gas masks. I thought these things were awkward to use,
because the eye-pieces misted up so quickly. I was never able to keep mine on
for more than 5 minutes! We had to carry our gas-masks at all times, so all
sorts of cases were designed to carry them in. Some were like handbags and some
were like round tea-caddies, in which the gas-mask just fitted. Some of the
lads at school used to play football or conkers with them and the cases got so
dented you couldn't get the gas-masks out!
The day I was told about the War, was a lovely warm day in September. I came
home from school for my lunch and sat upon a chair-arm in the kitchen,
whereupon my mother told me the news. We were at War. We had neither TV nor
radio and the newspaper didn't say much that I could understand, and my mother
couldn't or wouldn't say much to me either. I suppose she didn't want to
frighten me about events which could happen in a War, as I was only 8 years
old.
That same night the Air Raid alarms went off. There were lots of mills and
factories in our area, so we could hear quite a few, which meant that we a11
jumped out of bed, grabbed a few clothes and went down into the cellar, the dog
included. It was cold down there after a warm comfortable bed, and we sat
shivering, just wondering what was going to happen to us. However, after about
an hour the All-Clear went, so we went back to bed.
We had 3 more days back at school, when we were all assembled and told by the
Headmaster to go home, as the school was closing for the time being and we
would be told when to return. We had just had our summer holidays and being
sent home again sounded great stuff to us!
Then things started to happen. All the important buildings had sandbags built
round their doors and windows. A11 the street lights, (which were gas in those
days), were not lit at night any more. Everyone had to have good thick curtains
up at all their windows to stop any light getting to the outside. Cars were
taken off the roads because people couldn't get any petrol, but worst of all,
we all got Ration Books which meant there was only a small amount of food for
everyone each week.
My father was in the Prison Officer Service at Wakefield Jail. My mother was a
housewife at home. My sister worked in Supplies in the Education Department, my
brother was a joiner and I went to the Village School. That is when I learned
to do the shopping. I was given a list of items each week, and away to the shop
I went for the goods. I say shop, because we had to register with just one
shop, and could only get our groceries from there. It was near to where we
lived, because everyone did the same, and of course, there were no big grocery
shops, and Supermarkets weren't even thought of then.
The shopkeeper would look at the list and assemble the items on the counter one
at a time, while everyone else waited in a queue. Shopping took a long time in
those days. I used to go to town with my mother on a Saturday to see what was
available from the market, where there would be queues at almost every shop and
stall, and all that was available was mostly locally grown produce. There was
nothing from abroad.
I was hungry. I was always hungry. Hunger seemed to be my main preoccupation in
those days. I would stay at school for a lunch which cost 4d, (that's about 2p
today), eat all I could, (sometimes 2 or 3 helpings), and then I would go home
for some mare; that's if there was anything available. I remember scraping the
jam out of a jam tart and spreading it on 2 slices of bread. It wasn't much,
but at least it was a little taste of jam.
People used to swap items of food, such as those who didn't use sugar, or never
used their jam ration. My mother could do alterations to clothes, (which were
also rationed), and she often got paid for her work with a bag of sugar, or
ajar of jam. The odd extra item of food like that was a feast to us.
When our school was re-opened after about $ weeks, we returned to a fortress.
There were sandbags built up everywhere. I was a tall lad for my age, so I was
selected to help the teacher, who had to glue a piece of muslin, (like bandage
material), on every pane of glass on the inside of the building. This was intended
to stop glass flying around if ever we were bombed. Thank goodness it was never
put to the test, but it was my job to go round the school every week, to check
that all this muslin was still well stuck to the glass.
In our classroom, we had hooks screwed into the walls, so that our coats and
gas masks were handy, just in case we had an Air Raid and had to go to the Air
Raid Shelter, which was on a piece of land near to the school. In addition we
had 4 little folding beds, bottles filled with fresh water every day, several
jars of barley-sugar sticks, toilet paper and a First Aid kit. These items had
to be transported by boys and girls to the shelters, just in case we had to
stay there for any length of time. An Air Raid practice was always an exciting
time. Someone got us some small boxes of bars of chocolate to take with us, but
the mice ate them first!
Our Christmas parties were a class by class affair, held in our own classrooms.
We all took something to eat or drink, which the teachers set out for us, so
that after a few games; starting at 2 o'clock in the afternoon, (because the
school had no black-out), we devoured every crumb of food. Nothing was wasted.
There were no party or fancy clothes, no decorations, no music, just ourselves
and any songs that we could sing. We all seemed to enjoy ourselves and went
home in a happy mood.
At night the Black-out was total. One night the moon was brilliant and the
stars really did twinkle in every part of the sky. The silence was
unbelievable. Some men wore clogs as footwear and as they walked down the road,
they could be heard half a mile away. Any vehicle had its headlights masked,
which directed the light onto the road only.
The start of the War meant that everything was directed towards the War Effort.
Most shops closed at 5.30 pm or 6 o'clock and they closed even earlier in
winter to save electricity. The markets outside had only torches if it was
dark. To help with daylight we had Double Summer Time and it was almost dusk
until midnight. We also had staggered hours, when some workers started very
early in the morning and finished early in the afternoon, whilst others started
much later in the morning, but finished in the evening. All this was to spread
the industrial demand for electricity. We at home were cut off anytime with no
warning. Thank goodness we had coal fires, an oven and candles, so we could
keep the home going.
We had recently moved to a larger house and were only just getting used to this
new "electricity". In the kitchen was a black-leaded kitchen range
which consisted of an open fire with a back boiler for hot water arid an oven.
My mother did all her cooking and baking in the oven and used the open fire for
boiling the kettle, and cooking the vegetables in saucepans. The tire made lovely
toast, using our home-made toasting fork and we used to cook "cheese and
cinders" underneath the fire. It was so tasty.
My mother worked very hard looking after the family and the house, and later an
she had to register for outside work as well. This was to help with the
"War Effort". She was allocated a job at an Air Ministry Supply Depot
where she used to pack socks, shirts, shoes and garments for the men in the
RAF. She was given the choice of either taking in 3 or 4 evacuees or working. I
don't think she felt she could cope at home with looking after any more people.
If we had taken in the evacuees, the children would have slept in our living
room and we would have had to live in the kitchen as there were only 2 rooms
downstairs. We had 3 bedrooms, but there were 5 of us already and my mother was
barely coping with all the extra tasks which the War had brought with it. If
she took a job at least she would be bringing in some extra money.
All the washing was done by hand in those days, as there were no washing
machines then; we only had a scrubbing brush, a washboard and a mangle. Mother
had a "peggy-tub" to do the washing in, and pounded it up and down
with a "posser". She had a "ladling can" to transfer water
in and out of the tub; a bag of "dolly-blue" to put in the rinsing
water to make the washing look whiter, and an indoor creel to hang the washing
on when it was raining outside. It was hard work scrubbing working shirts and
overalls by hand as they got very dirty indeed. Then they had to be rinsed, put
through the wringer and hung out. We even had to make our own clothes pegs. We
were surrounded by steam trains, factory and mall chimneys, so the air was
usually full of soot, and sooty smuts often landed on the washing, or blew
through ill-fitting windows into the houses, which meant extra work trying to
keep the house clean. Furniture and carpets were available, but were all
second-hand. Even new things which were available were of poor quality and most
people had very little money, so you had to look after what you'd got, or
"make do and mend".
Most people got into the habit of saving everything they found, or were given,
in case it would come in useful. The deprivation was so bad that these habits
became ingrained and this is one of the reasons why old people who lived
through the War have a tendency to hang onto things and never want to throw
anything out! My mother used to take wrapping paper off parcels very carefully,
iron it and use it again and again. We used to take all the knots out of string
and re-use it because everything was in such short supply. My mother even used
to unravel old knitted jumpers, wash the wool, and then knit a "new"
garment with it!
My mother was a very thrifty person, she had to be. She made use of food from
the garden, hedges and trees and made bought food spin out, so we all enjoyed
it as much as possible. Mother's day started very early. She was always up
first and had to light the fire before she could even start cooking the
breakfasts. We used to have toast with butter, margarine and sometimes
dripping. We got dripping from the small joint of meat, or from a boiled-up
bone which we could buy from the butcher, off ration. Sometimes we had fried
cheese, or half an egg, which we shared, or some dried-egg mixed with water or
milk. Mother would
make fish-cakes, with much more potato than fish, beans on toast, some fried
tomatoes, really anything we could get. We drank tea or coffee

My mother saw
to it that we had clean clothes to wear and some money to pay for anything we
might need. I had my dinner money, and in case I had to call at a shop or get
something for my bicycle I was given enough. I stayed to school dinners to help
with the rations - I was the only one who did this.

My mother could sew, alter garments, make new ones, and make new ones out of
old ones. Lots of her friends had children and she did lots of sewing for them,
but instead of taking money for payment, she would take food. Even if we didn't
eat the food, mother would take what was on offer and exchange it for something
which we did eat. This was called "bartering". It was legal, not like
getting things on the "black market"; We used the fish and chip shops
quite a lot, but the fishing boats could only use the waters off the West
coast, so even the fish and chip shops were shut for several days each week.
One meal we had quite often was a bought fish, mashed potatoes, a tin of peas
and some parsley sauce.
Again, we had what we could get for tea. Sam and bread was a11 we had on many
occasions. So mother had a continual problem with food arid how to feed us all.

At one time we kept some hens so we could have some fresh eggs. We exchanged
our egg ration for same meal to feed the hens. I went vegetarian and gave up my
meat ration so I could get more cheese. I wasn't too keen on the meat in those
days. It was often fatty and gristly, even the tinned corned beef, or bully
beef.

As a nine year old I didn't realise the full implications of the War and what
it meant. The way events in Europe moved didn't concern me - I just couldn't
understand what it was all about. But life on the "Home Front" as it
was called did concern me. I was the youngest member of the family and whilst
at home I helped mother around the house as much as possible. T was home soon
after 4 O'clock. I learned to fold sheets and towels and other washed linen. I
helped get sticks and coals ready for the fire. I helped mix cakes and
puddings, and at times kneaded bread. If mother managed to get some extra sugar
she made some jam, especially if it was blackberry season, when apples were
available too. Mother was busy all the time.

Not long after the War started, my brother had to go to work as a "Bevin
Boy" in a coal mine. He went as an engineer, looking after all the
machinery. This meant that he started work at 6 o'clock in the morning, so he
had to be up early to get there. He was a bit useless at looking after himself,
so mother had to get up first, get his breakfast, pack his lunch, then see him
off. He refused to use the works canteen. This put a lot of strain on mother,
but she managed to cope. Later on he got a little motor-cycle which eased the
time somewhat But getting him out of bed on a morning was a real drag for her -
he wouldn't move until the last possible moment. He was allowed about 2 gallons
of petrol a month to get him there and back. That was all the petrol our family
was allowed.

Soon after my sister had to go into the ATS, so we didn't see her except when
she was on leave. She was sent to Oswestry to work on something new called
RADAR We didn't know what RADAR was, and weren't allowed to talk about it even
if we did! All we knew was that it was very important. Later on she was posted
to Clyde Bank and Berwick-on-Tweed. These places were so far away from
Yorkshire, they seemed like the other side of the world to me. We only had
bicycles and travelling any distance was difficult far us. Just getting my brother
to the pit at Crigglestone, a distance of 4 miles, was hard enough!

My father was on duty 24 hours on and 24 hours off, so he couldn't be in the
Home Guard. He was sent to set up a new Prison Camp just outside Wakefield
called New Hall. In those days it was for "trusted prisoners" only.
It was simply some huts in the middle of a wood, with no walls or fences, just
a splash of paint on a tree to mark the boundary. They had pigs, hens and soft
fruit trees, strawberries and some fields of cereals. They supplied other
prisons with what they grew. One good feature about this job was the fact that
we could buy prison bread. It cost 3 halfpence a loaf, or 2 for 2 pence
halfpenny. Not only was it cheap, but it was freshly baked and very nourishing.
The bread tasted delicious with just butter on it alone.

I felt that by doing what I could to help mother, like running errands, eating
out and doing jobs around the house, her task of keeping the household running
would be much easier for her. She was seldom unwell, but occasionally she would
get a severe headache. She worked so hard for us all, I am sure it was the
strain of everyday life and all the extra jobs she had to do. Mother would have
to go to bed with a cold flannel on her forehead in a darkened room. Sometimes
she was sick, and could take neither liquids nor solids. The next day she would
usually feel able to eat half a slice of toast and drink a cup of weak tea;
then gradually, as she felt better during the day, she would consume a little
more. I know exactly how she felt, because I have experienced the same
migraines myself over the years.

Whilst all this daytime activity was going on, German Air Raids had started. We
used to get out of bed and go to the shelters when the sirens went. We would
sit there talking or dozing until the All-Clear went, when we would stagger
back to bed and fall asleep. We were allowed to turn up at school at any time
next morning if we had had a night's sleep interrupted by an Air Raid. We did
have some bombs and land mines dropped near us, which made the whole house
shake and the windows rattle.

A lane ran down the side of our "new" house which led to several
large fields with ponds. One day 3 small tanks appeared on the scene, which
were kept in the grounds of an old building 200 yards up the road, known as
"The Old Hall". These tanks were in the field at once, ploughing arid
churning the fields up and crashing through the dividing stone walls. These
didn't stay very long though and the place was taken over by the Bomb Disposal
Squad. This unit was quite active in the early part of the War after Air Raids
in Hull, Sheffield, Leeds, anywhere where bombs had been dropped.

One large bomb landed in HM Prison at Wakefield in an old disused gas holder,
which had to be made safe. Once these bombs were made safe, they were brought
up to the Bomb Disposal Squad at "The Old Hall" where the TNT was
steamed out. Some of these large empty bombs used to appear in city centres as
collecting boxes far donations towards hospitals. The soldiers in the unit, who
were mostly from London, gave us some incendiary bombs as souvenirs, but we
used to throw them onto garden fires to watch them burn.

One incendiary bomb proved to be different from the others. I took it home and
with the aid of my older brother we unscrewed the base. Then we found the way
in blocked by something else. He suggested knocking a screw into what appeared
to be just a little hole, screwing it in, then extracting the bits with a pair
of pliers. So the bomb was firmly fitted in the vice, which we had on a
workbench in our cellar. The screw was held in position by my brother and then
whacked with a hammer. Bang! It was the loudest bang I have ever heard. He had
hit the detonator and that was it. Fortunately the contents failed to ignite,
but my ears were left ringing for hours afterwards. The bomb spent the night in
the garden and the next day we lit a fire and allowed it to burn out
harmlessly, but I think we had a very narrow escape.

Later, after the raids had eased off, the BDS moved away and a local haulier
took over the fields to graze his horses. The horses were used around town to
distribute goods on short journeys from the railway yards to factories..
Between 5 o'clock in the afternoon and 8 o'clock in the evening, these large
Shire horses would be walked from town to the lane next to our house and
released into the fields, up to 100 at a time. Next morning at 5 o'clock, men
would start to round them up again for the day's work. These periods with the
horses coming and going were always noisy with the sound of large clomping
metal horseshoes and shouting men.

Occasionally, we would receive a parcel from North America, thanks to some
distant relative. These were always very much appreciated. It was like
Christmas morning when we opened one, as they usually contained items of food
or goods which were in short supply here. One day we received a parcel from the
relative's neighbour, which they had kindly sent us. But what a disappointment!
When we opened it, all it contained was a bottle of saccharine tablets and some
pan scrubbers. However, my mother managed to barter them for something else
which we did need.

Not only was shopping a nightmare, but public transport was always so crowded.
The buses to our village had 3 possible routes, which started from town in 2
different places. Then getting on the bus with baskets and bags was yet another
ordeal. Whenever possible I would meet my mother in town, help with the
shopping, then carry as much as I could home on my bicycle, Taxis were out of
the question, because of the expense and the shortage of petrol. We could
actually get a train to the village; it was only one stop, but the stations
were not convenient when carrying bags. Someone once compared my bike to a
removal van! We a11 had bicycles in those days and used them all the time; for
going to work, to school, for errands. Sometimes we used to cycle into the
countryside for a picnic, or just for enjoyment to take our minds off the War.

My mother used to disappear on her bicycle from time to time. She would just
say she was "going to see someone", but it was her return that was
welcome, especially if she brought home a pot of jam, or a tin of treacle,
something to put on, or eat with bread, which would fill the tummy. Sometimes
she would bring a garment to make, or one to alter, but you could bet your last
shilling some food would be involved somewhere along the line, knowing my
mother. She would go to any lengths to get us food: She even rented an
allotment on the railway sidings so that she could grow some vegetables. It was
a really big problem, but we obviously got through it and survived.

The whole country was trying to survive and money raising weeks for towns and
cities were organised; events like War Weapons Week, Wings for Victory and
Warships Week. I remember Warships Week very well, because a picture of a
galleon I painted won me 2nd Prize in a competition. The prize was 3 two and
sixpenny savings stamps - a fortune in those days.

Some of these events sound interesting and exciting, but the War was an
experience I would not want to go through again. What I have learnt is that war
and conflict pre to be avoided at all costs. We must all try to make the earth
a beautiful, peaceful place in which to live.